
Class ^£S_2.2Ak 

Book_/U5l2 

Copyright}]"^! ^^'J 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 






A iFrtpnbly Olrtbut? 

John Underwood" in The Andover Townsnuut 



Rev. Varnum Lincoln 

For most people in Andover, the Uni- 
versalist Church belongs to a forgotten 
chapter in town history, but to that church 
we owe the Village Improvement Society; 
for we owe that society to a lady whose 
father came here to be the pastor of the 
Universalist Church over half a century 
ago. And forgotten though the church 
may be, he who was its pastor and lover 
and true mourner has been a familiar and 
respected figure among us through all the 
years since then. 

Mr. Lincoln was a unique man. We 
have no one to take his place. His very 
type has disappeared; for he was surely 
the la.st among us of that Age of Reform- 
ers which arose in the United States in 
the first half of the last century. Anti- 
slavery, temperance, women's suffrage 
were only a few of the reforms which then 
fired the eyes and fixed in stern lines the 
mouths of resolute men and women. 
They did not all advocate the same re- 
forms. They were not all as victorious 
as the abolitionists were. But all together 
they raised the general average of Ameri- 
can ideas and purposes and life. The 
children who have seen Mr. Lincoln have 
seen one of that notable type of men. 
They will not see another. We have re- 
formers still, but they are cast in a different 
mould of personal bearing and manners 

Mr. Lincoln was an interesting man 
because of the seeming contradictions of 
his character. 

For one thing, it was odd that li^ should 
be a Universalist. Straight, unbending, 
grave, austere, he looked like a Puritan. 
Puritans of all times have believed vigo- 
rously in a Hell. Especially Puritan 
reformers, hating the cruelties and selfish 
brutalities which deface this world, would 
seem to have need of a permanent Hell in 
their scheme of things. Yet Mr. Lincoln, 
with all his hot wrath against the sins 
which cause human misery, held that 
creed which is associated in men's minds 
with a somewhat easy and tolerant view 
of human nature. The modern Univer- 
salist Church, along with its known vir- 
tues, is not noted for possessing the reform- 



ing mood. But the truth is, Mr. Lincoln 
belonged to the Universalist Church of 
the past, a church which felt itself to be 
an embodied reform in itself. In 1837, 
when the early Andover Universalists were 
looking for a place to hold their meetings, 
they applied to the bank directors for the 
use of Masonic Hall. Their records state 
that they received "no answer" to their 
application, and add with dry humor, 
"appearances indicate they would not." 
This deliberate discourtesy with which 
they were treated was but a sample of 
the way in which they were generally 
treated by their fellow-Protestants of the 
older bodies. Mr. Lincoln had known 
what it was to endure whips and scorns 
of the sort, and he had fought the fight 
in Puritan mood, in grim earnest. 

Again Mr. IJncoln was a poet. He 
possessed the artistic temperament, as has 
been shown both bv his own graceful 
verses and by the allied tastes of his chil- 
dren. Now, the artistic temper has not 
often felt a call to war on the particular 
sins of intemperance. Too often, in fact, 
it has lent its aid to making "ruby." 
But Mr. Lincoln, in spite of his vivid 
aesthetic sense, saw neither poetry nor 
beauty in wine. 

Again Mr. Lincoln was a denunciatory 
public speaker, while in private he was a 
gentle, kindly man. In these mild and 
timid days he startled his hearers some- 
times by the harsh directness and bitter- 
ness of his public utterances. Here too 
he belonged to a past time, when reformers 
spoke with concentrated harshness be- 
cause thev were thinking of the sin rather 
than the sinner. Garrison hated slavery 
but not the slave-holder. Mr. Lincoln 
could be bitter in public address, but he 
managed to keep amiable and brotherly 
towards his opponent. At least he thought 
he managed it; and that he often suc- 
ceeded, nobody can doubt who ever ex- 
perienced his personal courtesy or who 
ever noted the kindly gleam of his eyes 
as he looked at the younger world of 
Andover in these vears of his measured 
walks between his garden and the reading- 
room in Memorial Hall. 



olhr ^t^ntth Jarm Unitfi^ 




^^^^* n i*%,t^ oCA^^'^-^'^w* ^ 



BuKN Sept. 25, 1819 
Died Dec. 23, 1907 



®1|? S^a^rt^h Jarm ^timi 



ILLUSTRATED 



And Other Poems 



BY 

VARNUM LINCOLN 



•There's rosemary, that's for remembrance." 

— SHAKESPEARE 



SECOND EDITION 



Stanbope press 

F. H. GILSON COMPANY 
BOSTON, MASS. 






copyright 

Varnum Lincoln 

1899 

IN 1909 BY 

Emma J. Lincoln 



©CI.A25L72- 



So (§l& Jrifuhs 



Prrfar^ 



7"/,? sioi.set time; how brief life's little day' 
Around its scenes what hallowed memories throng! 
And here I deign when fades its twilight ray, 
To sing in varied keys my evening song, 
As woodland thrush upon its leafy spray, 
When hushed are other voices fields among, 
And bird companions to their rest have gone. 
Pours forth its notes in solemn dusk alone: 

Or as one journeying to lands unknown. 
Oft builds his fire to break the chill of night, 
Departs, and other pilgrims passing on 
Raking its embers, find both warmth and light ; 
So do I here, now shadows cool are grown. 
Kindle my torch with fancies dull or bright. 
Which dropped, may from its ashes still impart. 
Perchance some joy, to cheer a weary heart. 

This evening hour though clothed in so>iiI>rc hue. 
Its compensation brings, its hopes, its dreams; 
Cone noontide heat; and twilight's gentle dew 
Of peace upon the spirit falling, seems 
A cooling balm imparting life anew; 
While far above the dim horizon, gleams 
The golden sky, from which the wayworn borrow, 
Hopes of a day more beautiful to-morrow 1 

THE AUTHOR. 



Olnnt^nta 



The Deserted Farm House 13 



The Brook 



37 



Age Hath its Joys 41 

Hold Thou My Hand 44 

The Trxie Advent 47 

Just Over the River 49 

The Little Red Schoolhouse 52 

No More 56 

Those Wrinkled Hands 59 

The Miracle of Love 62 

My House 65 

Ring Out, O Bells 68 

The Invitation 71 

The Early Blltebird's Song 73 

Bedtime 76 

Dedication Hymn 79 

A Ship Rich Laden 81 

The Inward Vision 84 

The Sun-Brown Maid 87 

The Sunset Hour 93 

A Lock of Hair 95 

The Little Grave on the Hill 98 

My Old Arm Chair loi 

My Riches 104 

Waiting 107 

Old Eyes no 

Walking in the Night 113 

Questions 116 

In Trust to Thee iig 

Finding God 122 





•^ 






^ 



Sllt^ i^a^rtrii Jarnt i^cnBt 




X ramljling road in quaint back country town, 
Remote from noise of travel and of trade, 
A weather-beaten farm-house grey and lone 
Deserted stands, beneath an elm tree's shade. 



Long time ago in old Colonial days. 

Where setder's axe had smoothed the forest ground, 
A mansion fair to tempt the passing gaze 

Arose, among the distant hamlets 'round. 

But Time soon wastes once dear and hallowed scenes. 
And rural home with lapse of years decays. 

And long forsaken, grim, and tottering leans, 
A relic sad of old and bygone days. 

13 



Zbc Deserted jfarm Ibouse 




JC3CZDC 



iDiEDizzjczixzzx: 




)CZDC 



Its crumbling walls now desolate and 
bare, 
Are haunts for swallows where they 
build their nests, 
Its timbers creak in every gust of air, 
Its mouldering floors the busy 
worm infests. 

The leaning doors on rusty hinges 
turn, 
And yawns the moss-clad roof with 
leaky rents. 
E'en hungry mice its dusty cupboards spurn; 
On broken stairways spiders pitch their tents. 

14 



Ube H)eserte& ifarm Ibouse 

At night the owl oft sits on hearthstone cold, 
And woos its distant mate with plaintive calls, 

While circling bats their secret revels hold, 

Where ghostly moonlight on the wainscot falls. 

O'er rotting sill rank weeds their shadows spread. 
As if to hide it from the curious gaze, 

While the lone lilac by the ruined shed, 
Forsaken droops amid the tangled maze. 

By ragged fence the untilled garden lies. 

On larkspur beds the deadly nightshade grows, 

Where blazed the cockscomb knotted brambles rise. 
The red sumac where bloomed the blushing rose. 

And scattered trees where once had orchard been, 
The fitting types of frail and withered age. 

Whose work is done, yet linger on the scene, 
To pity move, or sober thought engage. 
15 



TLbc Deserted jfarm Ibouse 




A broken well-sweep dangles in the air, 

And marks the spot where dripping mosses grew, 

And sunken stones, the spotted adder's lair, 
And fallen curb, complete the dismal view. 



O'er all the scene a solemn stillness broods, 
Alone disturbed by caw of distant crow. 

Or partridge drumming in the neighboring woods, 
Or cry of loon in lonely marsh below. 
i6 



Ube Deserted jfarm Ibouse 

The tattered vagrant shuns the gruesome place ; 

The whisthng boy though loud his courage boasts, 
When moans the dreary wind with quickened pace 

All trembling flees, from fear of haunting ghosts. 

Yet here the sunburnt ploughman once was seen, 
Here dwelt his race to noble toil inured, 

His bleating flocks here led to hillsides green, 
And fertile acres tilled by wealth allured. 







The rustic swain here wooed his milkmaid bride 
Mid humble scenes and lowly lot; yet found 
17 



ITbe H)e6erte^ jfann Ibouse 



Where wedded hearts in sacred love abide, 

Each place a home, each spot enchanted ground. 

And rooms now silent echoed years ago 

To playful games, and noise of bubbling glee 

From prattling childhood, who in mimic show 

Rode grandsirc's cane, and clambered on his knee. 




The kitchen old with widespread chimney place, 

Was long the housewife's fair and proud domain. 

Where shining pans and andirons polished face. 

Her gentle skill proclaimed, her useful reign. 
i8 



^be S)e6crte& jfarm ibouse 

O'er mantel hung the farmer's frequent guide, 
The ahnanac ; whose leaves he searched to know 

Eclipses, change of moon, and courts, and tide, 
To journey when, or plant, when rain or snow. 




With beaming face the clock surveyed the scene, 
The anticjuc chair and settle graced the room, 

Along the shelves bright pewter platters lean, 
The door aslant displayed the hemlock broom. 
19 



XTbe H)esertc& ifarm Ibouse 

The room though scant had ahvays space to spare, 
With welcome warm, for stranger, friend, or guest, 

Their simple life, their plodding toil and care, 
Keen relish gave to social cheer and jest. 




Old neighbors met around the crackling fire. 
To hear the news, repeat the tales of yore. 

Of weather talk, and crops; with fresh desire 
Grave themes discuss they settled times before. 



Ube S)eserte& iFarm Ibouse 

A brighter glow when winter evenings came, 
Upon the hearthstone shone, and higher rose 

From hissing logs the pyramid of flame, 

Till in its beams each face transfigured grows. 

The snowbound trav'ler sees the ruddy light, 
And seeks a shelter from the blustering storm. 

With marvels strange beguiles the hours of night, 
And shares, 'ncath friendly roof the fireside warm. 




Ube Desertet) ifarm ibouse 

Each season brought some glad event to please 
These plain and hardy tenants of the soil ; 

With huskings, quiltings, and quaint paring-bees, 
They wisely mingled pleasure with their toil. 




And sleighbells jingled on the frosty air, 
As gathered from the neighborhood around. 

The sturdy youths and red-cheeked damsels fair, 
Who made with plays and jests the walls resound. 



22 



TLbc Wcscvtc^ ffarm IF^ouse 



With blindman's buff the rafters rang, or plate 
Was whirled, and forfeits paid with rustic grace, 

The coy maid yielding 
calmly to her fate, 
The boist'rous kiss re- 
ceived with blush- 
ing face. 



And here the thrifty dame 

or buxom lass. 
By noisy cockcrow 
roused, oft led the 
dawn 
In eager haste; brushed 
dewdrops from the 
grass 
With foaming pail, ere 
blushed the cheek 
of morn. 
With busy hands she still her task pursued 
In dairy neat; in shining rows arrayed, 

23 




mr^MP 



Ubc Deserted jfarm Iboiisc 

Huge pans of milk like giant lilies stood : 

On snow white bench the frugal meal she laid. 



Around the board both youth and age are seen 
To share their porridge or their bannock cake, 

And grateful that with health and hunger keen, 
On simple fare a royal feast could make. 




With dextrous hand she 
twirls the cunning 
wheel, 
As through her fin- 
gers runs the fleecy 
thread, 

Whose hum like bees 
when they sweet 
laden steal 

On scented wings, 
above some flowery 
bed. 



24 



Ube H>eserte& ifarm Ibouse 



The evening hour its 
fitting labor brings, 

When she by clean 

swept hearth her 

needle plies, 

While on the crane the 

steaming kettle 

sings, 

And at her feet the 
drowsy watch-dog 
lies. 




In scenes like these she spends each passing day, 
Content in her appointed sphere and lot. 

The task divine where love inspires the way, 
And sweet the toil in pure devotion wrought. 
25 



TLbc 'Bcscvtct) ifarm ibouse 

In search of bliss though others far may roam, 
For transient fame to public walks aspire, 

She finds her joy within the realm of home, 
And reigns a queen beside the household fire. 

If souls unburdened linger near these shores, 
And to old haunts return in earthly spheres, 

Then forms unseen may tread again these floors, 
And greet the loved of long departed years. 

And view the scenes once dear to mem'ries old. 
And tales rehearse, or muse with fond desire 

O'er days of happy youth, or age when cold 
The blood, they dozed beside the blazing fire. 

Ah! we know not; yet when the spectral light 

Of moon's soft beams, that floods the dark'ning gloom 

Of these deserted rooms, at noon of night. 

The time when shrouded dead are said to roam; 

26 




">; 



'3 



CO 



1 



■^ 



^ 



Ube H)e5erte& jfarm Ibouse 

i\nd on the staircase trembling shadows fall 
From waving elm that bends above the eaves, 

And shapes fantastic spread each mouldering wall, 
From which pale fright full many a bugbear weaves; 

'Tis then our fears invite the ills we dread. 
And sight disordered sees what fancy dreams, 

A whispering breeze will then invoke the dead. 

The moon's pale glimpse, a weird hobgoblin seems. 

And where more fit for gloomy ghosts to meet, 
Than 'mong the scenes of old forsaken place ? 

At midnight hour where loneness more complete, 
Or timid sense more phantom objects trace ? 

Then ghosts, if such there be, may linger here. 

To view the ground where once their feet had strayed, 

Some old companion seek, or drop a tear 

O'er change and wreck that fleeting years have made. 

29 



XTbe 2De5erte& dfarm Ibouse 



Alas! no answer comes to eye or ear, 

Through all the house decay and silence reign, 
Hushed all the busy life, the fireside cheer. 

Nor voices heard of spectres, nor of men. 

The toiling husbandman is seen no more. 
Nor drives again his herds to upland glade. 

Nor walks the woodland path ; nor by the door 
He sits, when twilight shadows lingering fade. 







The noonday horn calls him 
no more from 

field, 

No more he turns with 
plough the rugged 
ground. 

Nor sickle thrusts where 
golden harvests 

yield, 

Nor by the lane, nor in 
the garden found. 



30 



TLbc Wcscvtctf jfarm Ibouse 

His name no chisel writes on marble scroll, 
No listening crowds his worthy acts applaud, 

Yet as the needle steady to the pole, 

So true was he to conscience and his God. 



>^_ 











Not versed in schools nor learned in hostile creeds. 
Nor taught the path of circling worlds to trace, 

The way to Heaven he knew ; and showed by deeds 
He best loved God when best he ser\'cd his race. 
31 



JLbc Wcscvtc^ 3Farm Ibouse 

Let not vain pomp their homespun garb deride, 
Nor scornful speech their simple nature wound, 

Rough mountains often golden treasures hide, 
In vales obscure are glittering diamonds found. 

What though their deeds fill no historic page. 

Nor sculptured stones rise o'er their sleeping dust, 

Their names unknown far down the distant age. 
Who fell on field or served ambition's lust? 

At last the granite crumbles to the ground, 
And fame decays achieved in sordid strife. 

But virtue lives, and though with huniblest found, 
In widening circles spreads from life to life. 

In peace they lived with homely joys content. 
Not slaves to fawning pride nor fashions new, 

In neighbor's need their service kindly lent. 

In want were rich because their wants were few. 
32 



TLbc S)e5erte^ jfarm Ibouse 

But o'er the threshold which their feet have worn, 
In mourning robes the slow procession treads, 

And one by one their mortal forms are borne, 
In solemn silence to their dusty beds. 







\ 



\ 
\\\ 

flHtl 









Deserted long this moss-crowned ruin stands, 

And rough winds whistle through its crannied walls, 

A mark by day for rude, destructive hands. 
By night a spectre which the heart appalls. 
33 



XLbc Deserteo jFarm Ibouse 

Yet no ancestral hall nor gilded dome, 

In grandeur could with this plain house compare, 
When years ago it bore the name of home. 

And mem'ries tender long have clustered there. 




-^^■^^^ 



¥'h I, ■-- 



In sunny childhood's 




dream no spot more blest, 
No scene so dear to which the wand'rer 

turned, 
The ploughman worn found here a place 

of rest. 
And whitehaired age the peace for which 
it yearned. 

But now no fires upon the hearthstone burn, 

No feet to music trip the sanded floor, 
No housewife waits from field her spouse' return, 

No honest poor with blessing leaves the door. 
34 



TTbe S)eserte& jfarm Ibouse 

Not one, indeed, remains to mourn its fate, 
No voice to tell its long and varied tale. 

Nor annals known of either name or date, 
O'er all oblivion draws its sombre veil. 

What more the fame man seeks his name to crown, 
And builds with anxious care on mortal shore, 

Which as the rushing tide of time sweeps on, 
Is lost beneath its waves and seen no more? 

And who, alas! will keep our memory green, 
Or care in distant generations hence. 

That we have ever lived, or loved, or been. 
Who long have slept beneath our grassy tents ? 

And yet if like some wayside tenement, 
We have a covert served from cold or rain 

To any heart; or cheer in darkness lent 
To some belated wand'rer; life is gain. 

35 



Ubc Beserte^ jFarm Ibouse 

Some soul, perchance, disconsolate and lone, 
By sin betrayed or plunged in sorrow's night, 

Beholds the clear beams from our candle thrown. 
Fresh courage takes and turns to God and light. 



No act is lost, though name forgotten dies, 

In Time's long years and strange vicissitude, 
Each noble deed in grander 
forms shall rise. 
And larger grow the sum of 
human good. 







36 



®t|^ Irnnk 



/"^ LITTLE brook! playmate in youthful days, 
^— ^ And still dear memories around thee cling; 
Almost thou art human in thy ways, 

For I have heard thy merry laughter ring, 
And seen thee dance on crystal stairs, and gaze 
With sparkling eyes, as if some living thing; 
And my deep love thou didst return, I know, 
For my face I've seen in thy heart below. 

I loved thy waters; on thy brimming tide 

Sailed many a ship to seas far away, 
Which ne'er returned : some were wrecks scattered wide. 

As have other barks, I launched since that day 

37 



On Time's swift stream, in my deep joy and pride, 

Freighted with dear hopes, treasures rich and gay; 
But, alas! went down with their white sails spread, 
Into darkness and silence, shattered, dead. 



Thou art beautiful as a young bride dressed 
For marriage altar. White beads on thy brow, 

A chain of jewels sparkles on thy breast 

In the clear sun. Flowers of every hue glow 

In rich beauty on thy emerald vest. 

When thou dost pass, the willows bending low 

Kiss thy moist lips; and bright buttercups swing 

Their golden censers, — incense to thee bring. 



I loved thy murmuring music when a child, 
Whether thy silvery tones rang smooth and clear 

On air of summer days, or loud and wild 

At springtime flood ; and e'en now the dull ear 

38 



XTbe Brook 

Of trembling age is soothed by accents mild 

That come from rippling songs each day I hear; 
And many a time when by cares oppressed, 
Thou hast solace brought to a weary breast. 



Happy brook! for thou dost sing all day long; 

And when gloom folds o'er earth its leaden wing, 
And the spirit of dreams walks unseen among 

Weary ones, thou seemst to strike a louder string: 
From thee I learn that when sad troubles throng 

And dark night broods o'er heart, it still may sing. 
With soul tuned to harmonies infinite, 
Shadows with beautv shine; there is no ni2;ht. 



Like every good man's life whose hidden source 
Is in unfailing springs from heights above 

Spreading delight on its way, so thy course 
Is radiant with joy where thou dost move; 

39 



Ubc Broofi 

Fresh flowers and verdure start by silent force 

From thee, enriching fields and umbrageous grove; 
All scenes of nature shine with richer glow, 
And fruitful harvests smile where thou dost flow. 

In thy calm moods, blue skies and shining scroll 
Of night's starry constellations in thee 

Are mirrored, as heaven in the good man's soul. 
Whose peace grows wider as it nears the sea. 

And reaching at last its immortal goal. 
Finds life the same in grander destiny; 

Its joy on earth with larger heaven blends, 

As the peaceful brook in vast ocean endh ! 



40 



Ag^ l|atlt tta 3ngs 




HY should we grieve that youth has fled, 
And golden locks are turned to gray; 

That wrinkles show how years have sped 
Since we were careless boys at play ? 

Why mourn the loss of rosy dreams, 
That painted life with hues so fair; 

Of joys as brief as summer streams, 
Of castles perished, built in air? 

Is not the sun as bright today 

As when it shone on hours long gone, 

The skies as blue, the stars same ray, 
As when life flowed a constant song? 

41 



Bae Ibatb its 3o^5 

Are not the chants of birds as sweet, 
And flowers as gay in shady nooks, 

As when we chmbed with bare, brown feet, 
Each hillside green, and fished the brooks? 

Age hath its joys not less than youth, 

That spring from fountains broad and clear. 

From wisdom gained, and blessed truth. 

Calm thoughts, sweet hopes, memories dear! 

Brooks dash and sparkle at young springtide, 

But soon anon they cease to be; 
Rivers make channels deep and wide. 

E'en while they bear us out to sea. 

Who cares for wine from vintage new? 

'Tis age that gives the viol tone; 
What painter's art excels the view, 

Of lingering light, at set of sun ? 
42 



B^e 1batb Its 3ov.5 

Man a frail leaf, indeed, may seem, 

That from life's stem frost soon denudes, 

Yet where do scenes with beauty beam, 
As those we meet in Autumn woods? 

What builder, moved with wise intent, 
Frames works of art for gods to see, 

Of texture strong or ornament, 
wSeeks timber from a sapling tree? 

The truth is clear, and God is good, 
All seasons have their fitting joys. 

Blessings mark each passing mood. 
All things at last show equal poise. 

Yet harj) unstrung no music gives, 
No blind can see the sights of June, 

And hearts, to taste the good that lives. 
Must first with love be found in tune. 

43 



^0lit Sltnu iUg i^mh 



Or^D Thou my hand, dear Lord; rough is the way, 
Leading through deep ravines, up mountains steep, 
O'erhung with mists and clouds, where not a ray 
Of sunhght falls; but where dee]) calls to deejj, 
And all around, below, and overhead. 
Is naught but gloom, where T alone must tread. 
Hold Thou mv hand. 



Slipp'ry the ])ath, and mortal sense is weak, 
Temptation charms and sings its siren song, 
Enticing voices in soft accents speak 
Of sweet joys found, and gains in ways of wrong; 

44 



1bol& XTbou /ID\? 1bau^ 

List'ning I slide into sin's deep abyss, 
Where broods a living death and serpents hiss. 
Hold Thou my hand. 

Upon my heart I bear grief's heavy load, 
And falter as I feel my way in tears 
Along the windings of my pilgrim road 
With sad'ning memories of bygone years: 
Upon whom can I lean, O Lord, but Thee, 
In life's deep sorrows and strange mystery? 
Hold Thou my hand. 

I pray for truth, and seek from books and creeds 
Some gleam to cheer my soul with strength and hope, 
But all in vain; e'en in my saddest needs 
And sharpest pangs I still in darkness grope; 
These human tapers make but feeble light, 
My dearest hopes are mocked and end in night. 
Hold Thou my hand. 

45 



1bol& XTbou m^ Ibant) 

Life's day at last will close and evening come, 
The songs of birds be hushed, and shadows creep, 
In the calm twilight hour, o'er earth and home. 
And I shall to slumber go, long and deep. 
And to dear faces that have made so bright 
This weary world, shall say my last good night ! 
Hold Thou my hand. 




46 



®1|0 (Lrm Khwxxt 



fm LONGING wait as one of old, 
jjS The great Messiah's promised birth, 
I dream as Hebrew prophets told, 
Of Him who should redeem the earth. 

But not in outward form or place, 
Not in some spot of ancient fame, 

Do I expect to greet his face. 

Or kneel in homage to his name. 

In soul upright, in contrite heart, 

In life that conscience ne'er condemns. 

In love that heals a neighbor's smart, 
These are our sacred Bethlehems. 

47 



Ube Xlrue H^vent 

In better laws, in sweeter homes, 

In grander hopes that conquer death, 

There he, a living spirit, comes, 
The Holy One of Nazareth. 

There brightly gleams the guiding star, 
There angels chant their holy songs, 

As they descend from gates ajar, 
A multitude in shining throngs. 

There shall I best his presence see. 
There bend the ear to hear again 

Sweet strains of heavenly melody, 
"Peace on earth, good will to men." 

By these, I know my Lord is born, 
In them behold his face divine, 

I need not wait some hallowed morn. 
Nor manger seek in Palestine. 



JuBt (§wv thr Eturr 




HE night's coming on and the air grows chill, 
And weary with travel soon shall I stand, 
By the banks of a river dark and still 

Where the ferryman waits with oar in hand, 
To bear me on to the beautiful shore. 
Where the loved and the lost are gone before. 
Just over the river. 



Just over the river, it is not far 

Beyond the grey mists where the palm-groves lie, 
And sunny isles lift above the dim bar; 

Though lonely the voyage One Friend is nigh. 
Who Ivnows all the way to cheer and to guide, 
As o'er the dark wave we silently glide, 
Just over the ri^•er. 

49 



3ust ©vev tbe IRiver 

Just over the river, the dream how fair. 
Of evergreen fields and reahns of the blest, 

Where music celestial floats on the air. 
And the souls of the weary eternally rest; 

Where sickness ne'er comes, nor mourner's sad "tears, 

Nor storm -clouded skies, nor passing of years. 
Just over the river. 

Just over the river, where falls no night, 

Nor darkness of sin its glory to mar. 
But holiness reigns and God is the light, 

And bright shining gates stand always ajar; 
Where no hunger nor thirst ever arc known, 
And waters of life flow fast by the throne. 
Just over the river. 

Just over the river, why should I fear ? 

Many a loved one has crossed o'er the tide, 
And in my day-dreams their voices I hear, 

In visions of night I walk by their side; 

5° 



3ust ®veu tbe IRiver 

What rapture to see their faces once more, 
And clasp hands again on the radiant shore, 
Just over the river. 

Just over the river, ah, shall I know 

The dear ones of earth long vanished from sight! 
Shall I see them as in days long ago, 

And share forever new scenes of delight ? 
Oh! lonely and sad mid golden paved streets. 
If there wandering, the heart no loved one meets! 
Just over the river. 

Just over the river, what joy 'twill be. 

When harbor is made and the white sails furled; 
Then solved the sad doul^ts of life's mystery, 

In the light of a glad immortal world; 
Where life in God to larger fullness grows, 

No evils blight, no tear of sorrow flows! 
Just over the river. 

51 



®l|r ICtttk E^b ^rl|00U)0tt00 



i^ 



TREAD once more the same old scene, 
The unchanged hills still I view, 

The winding brook, the vale between, 
O'er all there bends same sky of blue. 

The quiet fields again I greet. 

The dim old woods wdiere snares we laid, 
The mill pond where our mimic fleet 

We sailed, and happy voyages made. 

The little schoolhouse painted red, 
With rough stone steps beside the sill. 

Where we at noon our tables spread, 
I see through mist mine eyelids till. 

52 



XTbe Xtttlc IRe^ ScF^oolbouse 

At the corner where two roads meet, 
There in the sunshine stih it stands, 

Same straggHng wall, and rustic seat, 
Where children grouped in merry bands. 

I hear again their noisy glee, 

I join once more their sports and plays. 
And o'er the chords of memory. 

Sweep tender thoughts of boyhood days. 

But where are now those old schoolmates. 
With whom I conned my lessons o'er, 

To learn a task of rules and dates, 
Or stand as culprits on the floor ? 

With whom I shared youth's simple joys, 
And careless dreamed of naught but play; 

The gentle girls, the laughing boys, 

Who filled those seats, where now are they ? 

53 



Ube Xittle 1Re^ Scf30olbou3e 

Where one who early stirred to love 
My boyish heart, and whom to win 

I gave brightest flowers from the grove. 
The reddest apj^les of the bin ? 

Where he with stern and solemn face, 
WHio held in awe that roguish band, 

Stilled the noise, checked the rude grimace. 
With oaken ferule in his hand? 

Yet had a kind and sunny side. 
And those intent to pluck the tree 

Of knowledge, found in him a guide 
From Ali)habet to Rule of d'hree. 

I see the children rushing out, 

I hear as in long years ago. 
The music of their joyous shout, 

I look; alas I not one I know. 

54 



Ube Xittle 1Re& Scboolbouse 

Silent and swift time's current flows, 
P'riends are borne on its drifting tide, 

Their sails bright gleam a moment shows, 
The l)reath of fate soon scatters them wide. 

Far remote have fallen their lines, 
That ne'er on earth shall cross again, 

Yet memory their form enshrines, 
Their virtues in the heart remain. 

Hiough I've gazed on marvels of art, 
Scenes of beauty by land and sea, 

Few so fair or dear to my heart 
() little red schoolhouse as thee. 

Symbol of light, long may it stand. 
To guard and keep with sacred care. 

The holy altars of our land, 

Heritage born of blood and prayer. 

55 



H 



No Mart 



E crossed one day the solemn sea, 
With silent oar and boatman pale, 

Still by those tides of mystery, 
We watch and wait a coming sail. 



With weary eyes in calm or storm, 

We pierce the cloud-mist of those shores, 

Yet catch no glimpse of vanished form, 
Nor hear the sound of dripping oars. 

O cruel fate ! O change and loss ! 

That brings such sense of grief and pain, 
The burden of a heavy cross, 

Nor is the world the same again. 

56 



IRo /iDore 

Days come and go in faultless round, 
Their starry tale dark nights repeat, 

But vain we wait the cheerful sound, 
On threshold worn of coming feet. 

His face we missed in June's sweet bloom, 
From earth's fair scenes he made more fair, 

And when again the roses come, 
We look, alas! he is not there. 

Bright winged swallows again return, 
And build their nests above the door. 

But aching hearts are left to mourn. 
The loss of one who comes no more. 

Borne up to heaven, the morning dew 
Returns again to bless the flower. 

Yet the old walks his presence knew, 
And verdant fields will know no more. 

57 



IRo /iDore 

No more among our househokl band. 
No more from lips his earnest thought. 

No more the pressure of his hand, 

No more the cheer his presence brought. 

There is no gloom like heart's eclipse. 
It colors life with darkest dyes, 

O'er earth a sense of coldness creeps. 
On every scene a shadow lies. 

O sad and throbbing heart be still! 

And count a Father's mercies o'er, 
Wait the unfolding of His will, 

Nor doubt His goodness yet in store. 

His heart is love; He knows our own. 
And he will make His purpose plain. 

Then joy complete His work shall crown, 
And parted souls clasp hands again, 

58 



®l|n0^ Urtnkbi ^an&a 



HOSE wrinkled hands that o'er a woman's breast 
Now folded lie in death's last solemn sleep, 
xA-las! how cold and still; but God knows best; 
While we with saddened hearts in silence weep. 
Who had by those dear hands been often blest; 
But now shall miss the love that flowed so deep : 
No more shall we enjoy their soft caress, 
Nor feel again their clinging tenderness. 

In these rough lines where Time's swift plough has run. 

And heaped with furrows deep the trace of years, 

The marks of toil, the change of shade and sun, 

The record of a busy life appears: 

Full many a tale they tell of joys begun. 

And hopes soon ended in a dash of tears! 

These veins of blue her sunny skies disclose. 

That skin so fair a white-robed angel shows. 

59 



But lo, as we read on what sight is this ? 

A cherub form with dimpled hands and smah, 

Bright golden locks and lips that tempt a kiss, 

Like paintings seen on old cathedral wall, 

Or angel sent from distant world of bliss, 

That sunshine brings to this dim earthly ball: 

Again we look, a laughing girl is seen, 

To school she skips or romps in orchards green. 



Next in these lines with sibyl eye we trace. 
The vision of a maiden sweet and fair; 
By garden gate she waits, upon her face 
A crimson blush, as if had gathered there 
The rosy hues of many a morning's grace; 
Or is that glow of bliss beyond compare. 
Aught else than love's warm thrill as there she stands, 
Clasped in her own another's tender hands? 

60 



Zbosc MrinfUe& Iban^s 

In these quaint hieroglyphs again are shown 
'Neath shehering trees, a home and cottage neat, 
And children round the ancient fireside o;rown, 
And hands that weary toiled to guide their feet 
In pleasant paths; and burdens borne alone 
Through years, that others' joy might be complete; 
Forgive, dear soul, when in life's lamp did burn 
So clear thy love, so thoughtless our return! 



Life's busy noon unrolls; and what befell 
In sober age, how hands now pale and cold 
Were moved to kindly acts; oft strove to quell 
A neighbor's grief; and wij)e the gathering mould 
Of death from aching brows; sick-beds can tell, 
And poor their saintly deeds with joy unfold: 
Then rest, sweet hands, with scars of battle won. 
Like folded banners when the day is done! 

6i 



®lrr iitrarb iif ICnu^ 




LOW sinks the sun on Tabor's hill, 
Far spent is evening's golden light, 

The waves of Galilee lie still. 
Cool shadows dee])en into night. 



From city home and village hut, 
'J'he ])eople crowd the desert drear, 

Seeking strange signs of him who taught 
Truths never dreamed by prophet seer. 

The Lord in love the throng surveyed; 

He blest and brake the scanty store. 
When lo! 'twas found the few loaves made 

A meal for all, and baskets more. 
62 



Ube /llMracle of Xove 

In finer sense, when love its feast 

Has spread, although its joys we share 

With thousands more, still find increased 
Our own, in measures large and rare. 

O wondrous love! () ])ower divine! 

By thee are marvels daily wrought, 
That Eastern ]\Iagi can ne'er outshine, 

Nor famous stone poor mortals sought. 

No richer boon can man possess; 

The dross of life it turns to gold; 
Although such wealth and power to bless, 

It can be neither bought nor sold. 

When will, indeed, its wonders end. 
That more we have when more we use, 

That richer grow when most we spend, 
And \\-hat we keep we always lose? 

63 



Xi:be /iDiracle of Xove 

Hard is the fare, the cabin small, 
But heart o'erflows to God and man, 

The cot blooms out a palace hall, 
The humble board a festal scene. 

And every lot is brighter made; 

To poorest crumb is sweetness given; 
Large usury by love is paid,^ — 

Our gifts though small, our gains a heaven. 




64 



Uly i^ttmt 




1^^ 



HOUSE I have where snug I dwell, 
On the verge of two worlds it stands, 
The Builder's art no tongue can tell, 
And never landlord rent demands; 
Aback, the land of silence lies, 
In front, a realm of mysteries. 

No temple half so cjuaint is seen. 
With crimson walls and shape erect, 

And chambers Ixiilt for gods or men, 
By hands of unseen architect; 

Dome, windows, groin and pediment. 

All show its Maker's wise intent. 

65 



/ID^ ibouse 

Through change of sunshine and of rain, 
Under its roof have I hved on, 

An heir by nature of rich domain, 
Lord of a castle all my own. 

With grandest servants day and night. 

The earth, bright suns, and starry light. 



Its silent rooms with pictures throng. 
Of friends and scenes in bygone years. 

Many a face though vanished long, 
A portrait on its walls appears; 

The loved though lost to sense and sight. 

Are here revealed in hallowed light. 



Though house alone I occupy, 

I live no gloomy anchorite. 
But often have grand company, 

Whose talk beguiles the lonely night: 
66 



/ID^ Ibouse 

Great Plato puts his hand in mine, 
And Shakespeare sweeps his lyre again. 

But now there falls the winter's snow, 
And o'er the windows creeps a frost, 

On the red hearth the lire burns low, 
Chill is the air, and many a ghost 

Haunts its dim halls, of years long dead, 

Alas! of joys forever fled. 

Yet sweet the thought when house grows old, 

Its timbers trembling to decay. 
When lights are out and hearthstone cold. 

And tender tones have died away, 
A mansion sure its tenant waits, 
Where outward swing the shining gates. 



67 



ISimj ®ut, (§ IpUs 



IXCj out, () bells, the joyful sound, 
Thy tuneful tongues the story tell, 

To all the people world arcnmd. 
What in Bethlehem town befell. 

How in centuries long ago, 

When prophet lips were cold and still, 
Men blindly groped in sin and woe, 

And light burned dim on Zion's hill. 

The midnight breezes whispered low, 
By Kedron's brook the shadows slept, 

i\nd Hebrew shepherds 'neath the glow 
Of starry skies, lone vigils kept. 
68 



IRtng ®ut, © Bells 

And as they watched their flocks by night, 
They dreamed what seer and Ijard had told 

Of him who should oppression smite, 
And bless their nation as of old. 

Long they waited ; yet to redeem 

Israel, no glad Messiah came; 
So slow the years of God did seem. 

That hearts grew faint with grief and shame. 

When lo! that night, before them stood. 
One who in glistening raiment shone, 

Saying, *'I bring thee tidings good, 
To-day a Savior, King, is born!" 

The gates of Heaven flew open wide, 
And downward rushed in joyous mood. 

Borne on music's melodious tide. 
The heavenly host, a multitude. 

69 



IRino ©ut, ® Bells 

Glory to God on high they sang, 
Peace on earth, good will to men, 

While Syrian skies with raptures rang, 
And angels smote their harps again. 

Then ring, O bells, and join the strains 
Of angel choirs, who came to earth. 

And anthems sang o'er Judah's plains, 
To celebrate a Savior's birth. 

And let all tongues their tribute bring 

Of praise, for such a day divine. 
For precious hopes that round it cling, 

For tidings glad in Palestine. 

And hasten. Lord, that brighter morn, 

When love through all the world shall reign, 

When Christ in every heart is born, 

And Heaven comes down to earth again! 
70 



Q^hjt iuuttattnn 



[Rev. 3-20.] 




OME sup with me, dear Lord, T pray, 
Now darkly fall the evening shades, 

Far spent the sun its noontide ray, 
And twilight in the valley fades. 

I lift the latch thy face to greet. 

The door I swing with welcome wide; 

Here stay and rest thy weary feet, 
And lay thy pilgrim staff aside. 

Though I a costly feast prepare, 
And viands rich on table spread. 

Yet small these gifts with thine compare, 
When thou thyself the Living Bread! 

71 



TLbc ^Invitation 

Abide with me a constant guest, 

And make my dwelling wholly thine ; 

My contrite heart thy place of rest, 
My spirit pure thy throne divine. 

Well might I shrink to entertain 
A King like thee with scanty fare, 

But then I know that board so plain, 
Is bancjuet rich if thou art there. 

What friend like thee in lonely night. 
For thee what store can I provide, 

Since thou dost bring both food and light. 
And glory fills the household wide ? 

Thy presence brightens every spot. 
Thy love adorns each barren way; 

I live in state in lowest cot. 
With thee my guest, and night is day! 
72 



®I|f Early llwbtr&'a §nng 



/""^NE winter's morn as down the lane I strolled, 
^ — The clouds with signs of coming storm 

hung red, 
A breeze swept inward from the sea, where rolled 
Huge waves in garments white like sheeted dead: 
The land, a picture desolate and grey, 
Save tents of lingering snow that scattered lay. 

As sad I mused on ways of Providence, 

And problems dark concerning human fate, 

Strange cjuestionings came: shall these ills of sense, 
And pains of wrong on man forever wait? 
Or shall there not a long glad summer come 
With fairer skies and flowers sweeter bloom ? 

73 



TLbc lEavi^ Bluebird's Song 

Just then from out the old orchard trees, 
There broke upon mine ear, flutedike and sweet, 

A song of such enchanting melodies, 
I thought some angel chorister to greet. 
Nor was I wrong; as out the branch it flew, 
Its wings I saw, were dipped in heaven's own blue. 

Thrice welcome, sweet warbler of blue-tipped wing, 
Thy song bringest tidings of brighter days; 

But w^hy this sudden haste? This is not spring! 
Thou dost mistake the moons! So spare thy lays: 
The orchis still sleeps in its forest shade 
With pink-eyed arbutus, were words I said. 

llien low was I humbled when again I thought, 
How this simple bird jjoured its prophet strain 

Of summer skies, as its nature taught, 
That I lifted to reason's higher plane, 
Should doubt the larger hope in man instinct, 
Of Heaven and earth in holy marriage linked. 

74 



Zbc Barl^ 3Bluebir^'5 Song 

This truth I learned that when I weary sighed, 
And wished glad summer-time had swifter wings, 

To find its coming pledged and prophesied 
In that hope mine own heart so sweetly sings: 
To me the task in truth and love to grow, 
The years to Him who will His goodness show. 




75 



Irftttmr 



m 



AY is waning to its close, 
Dusky twilight fainter grows, 
Star of evening brighter glows 

Above the hills; 
Shadows hide the valleys deep, 
Misty ghosts o'er meadows creep. 
Flowers in dewy nightcaps sleep. 

Beside the rills. 

Softly falls the dark'ning gloom, 
From brown fields the reapers come. 
And tinkling herds seek their home. 

As daylight fades. 
Lonely pipes the whippoorwill. 
Hark! the echoes from the hih, 
Farm and forge lie weird and still, 

Beneath the shades. 

76 



Bedtime 

'Tis an hour of grateful calm, 
Ceased grim toil and worlds alarm, 
Night dim and cool pours its balm 

On weary eyes. 
Tread lightly pilgrims of earth, 
Hushed the sounds of noisy mirth, 
Day is dead that had its birth 

In morning skies! 



Life is but a passing day, 
With its hues of morning grey. 
Busy noon with fervid ray, 

And eventide. 
And death the calm set of sun, 
When the weary clay is done, 
And our l^urdens one l^y one. 

We lay aside. 
77 



36e&time 

When we've tasted morning sweet, 
Borne the scorching midday's heat, 
And dark storms have often beat 

Upon the breast; 
Glad the time of cahn repose, 
Freed from earthly cares and woes, 
Hope's evening star gleaming shows 

A home of rest. 



Teach me thou herald of night. 
To welcome thy soft'ning light. 
Nor fear when grows dim my sight, 

At set of sun. 
But with a faith strong and deep. 
In Thy arms. Lord, fall asleep. 
Trusting Thee my soul to keep, 

Thy will be done. 
78 



iSi^btrattnu i^ymu 




ROM age to age, in every clime, 

Thy children. Lord, have bowed the knee 
With fervent prayer and sacred hymn. 
In groves and temples worshipped Thee 

Another altar here we raise, 

And seek Thy presence as we wait, 

With solemn rites and grateful j^raise, 
These courts to Thee we consecrate. 

Here may Thy truth in beauty shine, 
And shed abroad its C|uickening rays. 

Touch dying souls with life divine, 

And guide their steps in heavenly ways. 

79 



DeMcation Ib^Mun 

Here youth and age together meet, 
Deep sorrow lay its burden down, 

Earth's careworn pilgrims rest their feet, 
And contrite hearts their sins disown. 

Here incense bring of pure desires. 
And fragrance sweet of upright deeds. 

Our sacrifice, love's holy fires 
That kindle at another's needs. 

O Love Divine, Thy people bless, 

Who here shall come to praise Thy name, 

Each heart a shrine of righteousness, 
Each day undinimed devotion's flame. 



80 



A i^lrt^t Strlr ^£^hm 



A 



SHIP rich laden leaves the strand, 

And sails away to unknown shore, 
A last adieu, a wave of hand, 

Its whitened sails are seen no more; 
What fleets she meets on other seas. 

From fragrant isles what breezes blow, 
What regions seen more fair than these. 

Ah! who can tell, or who can know? 

What freight she bore to that strange land ? 

Not jewels rare from India's mine, 
Nor costly gems from Kurdistan, 

Nor pearls that in deep ocean shine; 



a Sbip IRicb %a^cn 

Not these, but yet to me far more, 
A gentle soul of purest ray, 

And heart of mine this vessel bore 
When morning grey she sailed away 



And will my ship return again. 

To bring me news of brighter lands. 
Of peaceful harbors, shining main, 

Where drifts her keel o'er golden sands; 
Some message sweet of fairer clime, 

Some token sure of faces dear, 
Who sailed away in olden time. 

And now send back their greetings here ? 



In summer's calm and winter's blast, 
I've anxious watched the heaving tides, 

To catch some glimpse of rising mast, 
As home again she proudly rides; 
82 



a Sbip IRicb Xa&en 

But naught I see on ocean zone; 

I only hear the l)reakers roar, 
That wildly dash in plaintive moan, 

I'hen die in silence on the shore. 

So long I've gazed my locks are white, 

And weary eyes oft fill with tears, 
While day is fading into night ; 

But midst this gloom of doubts and fears, 
O vision sweet! ho])e's beacon throws 

A wondrous glory o'er that sea, 
And in its light a dear face glows, 

A snow-white hand is beckoning me. 




83 



iUbt ilituiarft Utatnn 




HINGS are we do not see, 
But sure it is that he, 
Who would see all things best, 
Must have eyes holiest. 

Sad the blind on w^hose sight 
Lingers the long dark night; 
More pitiful his lot 
Who with eyes seeth not. 

Each makes the world he sees, 
In space or centuries; 
One to dull clown it seems, 
Other in prophet's dreams. 

84 



Ube Unwarb Diston 

'Tis spirit colors all, 
Paints Nature great or small, 
Robes skies in blue or grey, 
Brings dark or sunny clay, 

Makes our heaven and our hell, 
Our deities as well, 
Since the gods creeds impart. 
But pictures are of heart. 

As fine or gross the sense. 
So is sight's recompense. 
And whether ill or fair. 
Is what we mortals are. 

As shores of bush and brake, 
Reflected are in lake; 
So world in parts or whole. 
Are mirrored of the soul. 

85 



XTbe Unwary Dtsion 

No beauty outward seen, 
Till iirst it dwells within; 
No God of love confessed, 
Till love pervade the breast. 

To make the vision bright. 
Fill soul with love and light: 
Who has the most of these, 
Both God and Nature sees. 




86 



El)t ^mt-lrniuu Mmh 



F 



RESH leaves of fern before me lie, 

And on the air their odors fling. 
Which, seen with dull or careless eye, 

May seem a small and trifling thing; 
But deeper thought they wake in me, 

A wondrous vision of the mind, 
In which with eye of memory, 

I new and sweeter meanings find. 



"f5" 



With magic spell this simple fern. 

Shames necromantic arts of old; 
I look: the wheels of nature turn. 

And circling years are backward rolled; 
Life's early scenes in l^cauty glow; 

Before me rise the woods and plain, 
Where oft I roamed long years ago. 

And sober age grows young again. 

87 



Ube Sun^Brown /lDai& 

I see the meadow robed in green, 

The pasture where I drove the cows, 
The sloping banks and brook between, 

And fragrance breathe of hemlock boughs: 
While on the air there lingers sweet, 

The music soft of tinkling bell, 
The lonely thrush his songs repeat, 

And echoes wake in woodland dell. 



I hear the laughter on the hills. 

Where merry children berries seek. 
And heart again with rapture thrills. 

At sight of one with sun-tanned cheek. 
And smiles brimful of roguish glee, 

That hide and seek with blushes play 
O'er her face; lips, that wandering bee 

In search of sweet, might tempt astray. 
88 



Cbe Sun*Brown /iDaiO 

I show her where June lilies grow, 

Where sprouts the spicy sassafras, 
Golden cinquefoil and asters blow, 

The woodchuck's castle in the grass; 
And while we sit beneath the pines, 

And chainlets make of tender leaves. 
Which on her hat of straw she binds, 

Ties stronger round my heart she weaves. 



I told my love by word and sign. 

She blushed ; then pouted, half in fun, 
But when she turned her lips to mine, 

Ah! then I knew her heart was won; 
So thrilled with fervent ecstasies. 

We lost all sense of time and shade, 
And wondered why the flying days 

Were not for lovers longer made. 
89 



Ube Sun^Browu /IDai& 

vision sweet of sunny clays, 

That floats so clear in mem'rics light, 
When on this forest herb I gaze, 

Yet like some transient dream of night; 

1 turn, alas! how changed the scene. 

Since that glad time by hillside wood; 
How many silent graves between! 
How many milestones on the road! 



The hills the same, the brook runs on. 

Lilies still show their pearl and gold, 
But changes come with every sun. 

Since lovers met by shady wold; 
The barefoot boy white-haired has grown. 

And many a year has genth' shed 
Its clews, where sleeps beneath the stone, 

His early love, the sun-brown maid. 
90 




The last fa ini liir^eriiig beam of Iii:;ht is gone, 
A]i(I ilitskx gloom the solemn laiuheape fills^ 



91 



Cl|^ S^mtsrt i^onx 




LOW dips the golden rim of setting sun, 
Till down behind the purple tinted hills, 
The last faint lingering beam of light is gone, 
And dusky gloom the solemn landscape fills. 

The sounds of noisy care and busy gain 

Are hushed ; save notes of tinkling bells are heard, 

And farmboy's shout far clown the grassy lane, 
The cricket's song or screech of startled bird. 

The tired traveller near his journey's end. 

Sees glimmering lights across the distant plain; 

Thither with joy his quickened footsteps bend. 
For soon he hopes to meet clear ones again. 

93 



Ube Sunset Ibour 

O blest, indeed, who in life's sunset hour. 
Can through gathering shadows plain discern 

Some gleaming lights beyond this darkened shore, 
Some glimpse of home in an immortal bourne. 

With hope new kindled he pursues his way, 
That grows still brighter as he nears his goal. 

Till fades dim earthly light to heavenly day. 

Loved meet again and soul communes with soul. 




94 



A ICnrk nf l|air 




EARCHING a bureau drawer one day, 
x\mong things odd and rare, 

1 found in a corner laid away 
A lock of flaxen hair. 

'Twas neatly tied with silken string. 
And brown with age and mould, 

To some perhaps a trifling thing, 
To me of wealth untold. 

What power at times in little things. 

To thrill with joy or ];ain, 
And stir with strange imaginings. 

The heart and life again. 

95 



B Xock of Ibair 

And soon my tears began to flow 

At sight of this small curl, 
For it had once adorned the brow 

Of my lost darling girl. 

It wakened thought of years long gone, 
When life was new and bright, 

Gave back to me my dearest one, 
In memory's softened light. 

It called to mind her winnins; o-race, 
And through time's gathering mist 

I saw once more her loving face 
And lips I often kissed. 

What joy 'twould be again to meet, 

If angels could her spare, 
Yet heaven itself would be less sweet 

Without her presence there. 

96 



H %oc\\ of If^air 

Sometimes I trust this heart of mine 
Such heavenly bhss may share; 

If not what mean these hopes divine 
That God hath planted there ? 




97 



®l|^ ICtttb (^vtxw m\ t\yt IftU 



'ROM out my home is gone a light, 

Edipsed at early morn, 
A sunbeam fair with promise bright, 

On other skies to dawn ; 
A child's caress and love I crave, 

Whose form in death now chill, 
Beneath the stars a little grave, 

A grave upon the hill. 

His beaming face and smile I miss, 

His fund of prattling lore, 
His fond embrace, his good-night kiss. 

His greetings at the door; 
His liglit and cheer no more I have. 

My house how lone and still, 
But far away a little grave, 

A grave upon the hill. 
98 



Ubc Xittle Grave on tbe Ibill 

Oh, yes, I know what kind friends say, 

Who tell me not to mourn. 
That it will be all right some day. 

And sorrows should be borne; 
And hard I study to be brave. 

But spite of words and will, 
My heart turns to a little grave, 

A grave upon the hill. 



Ah, none can know another's loss. 

Or depths of anguish sound, 
Unless they too have borne the cross. 

And felt the bitter wound; 
Some think that I my tears might save, 

That strange they should distill, 
But then they see no little grave, 

No grave upon the hill. 

li''' 99 



Zbc Xittle Grave on tbe Ibill 

I long again his face to see, 

To grasp his tiny hand, 
I wonder if he thinks of me, 

Among that angel band ; 
On earth he was my light, my joy 

And tears my eyes will fill, 
As I think of my little boy, 

Whose grave is on the hill. 



Many talk of a heavenly fold, 

A grand celestial seat, 
Of gates of pearl, and streets of gold. 

Where earth's redeemed shall meet: 
But what to me a seraph's joy 

Or countless harps that thrill, 
If there I find no little boy, 

Whose grave is on the hill. 



Mij mh Arm (Eliatr 



H 



APPY the man who aged grown, 

Has some fond idol to adore, 
Something to love and call his own. 

Yet worships still his Maker more; 
Hero or saint one may enthrone. 

While others kneel to fancies rare. 
But dear to me thougli rude and worn. 

The presence of my old arm chair. 

When twilight falls on field and town. 

And golden rays flush evening sky, 
'Tis there I sit at dusk alone, 

And ponder o'er the years gone by; 
Ah, then, what memories rise to view. 

What hallowed scenes are mirrored there. 
Though gone from sight dear friends I knew, 

They linger round my old arm chair. 



/IDy ®lt) Hrm Cbair 

And nestled 'mong old orchard trees, 

There stands the cot where I was born, 
And stirs again the summer breeze, 

Among the tall and tasselled corn ; 
The dear home scenes come back to me, 

And boyhood haunts fresh beauty wear, 
The woods, brooks, hills, again I see, 

When musing in my old arm chair. 



When rest from weary toil I seek, 

New grace adorns its antique arms, 
No tongue can half its virtues speak, 

Nor kingly throne show sweeter charms; 
Its battered frame with beauty beams, 

And lost to wordly noise and care, 
I wander in the land of dreams. 

While dozing in my old arm chair. 

I02 



/ID^ ®l& Brm Cbair 

When frosty age steals slowly on, 

With snow-white locks and trembling gait, 
And the old fireside lonely grown, 

While I in evening shadows wait; 
Yet joy each season spreads its feast, 

And fading autumn yields its share, 
Amonor its blessings not the least, 

The comfort of an old arm chair. 

Often we're told of heavenly bliss, 
A land of sweet and pure delight, 

Where hearts o'erflow with happiness, 
And kindred spirits reunite; 

But when I trouble strive to shun. 
Or seek some quiet joy to share. 

Already is my heaven begun 
If sitting in my old arm chair. 



103 



M}} Sirljjs 



A LL worlds to me their tribute pay, 
^ ^ Each element and law 
In earth, or air, or Milky Way, 

A fund on which I draw. 

The sun and moon my servants are, 

Attending night and day; 
And stock I own in every star, 

That lights my homeward way. 

I title hold in mountains blue, 

Ocean, and waterfall; 
My neighbor's lawn yields revenue, 

His asters by the wall. 
104 



/IDI^ IRicbes 

In roadside flowers I claim a share, 

I in lone walks behold ; 
In these I'm more than millionaire, 

They line my path with gold. 

I count not wealth by jingling coin. 
Nor by broad lands and rent; 

But rich am I though poor I dine, 
If therewith I'm content. 

Of value more than kingly crown. 
Are pleasures of the mind; 

Of Plato's brain a share I own, 
And gold in Homer find. 

I'm heir of all the ages gone. 
Of wise laws, prophet's lyre. 

Knowledge, freedom, and riches born 
Of blood and battle fire. 

105 



/ll>^ IRicbes 

With work to do and friends to love, 
And hopes that upward soar, 

A thankful heart, and God above, 
What need has mortal more ? 




1 06 



Hmting 




HE curfew rings, the hour grows late, 

x\round I see the empty chairs, 
By dying fire alone I wait, 

While ticks the old clock on the stairs. 

Neighbors are missed along the street, 
And lights are out across the way, 

On pavement dies the tramp of feet, 
The night -owl hoots from maples gray. 

And lonely grows the old hearthstone. 

As dear ones say their kind " Good -Night, " 

And pale hands rest whose work is done, 
While dimly burns the flickering hght. 
107 



\^anished are faces once I knew, 
Hushed are voices I lovecl to hear, 

On churchyard marbles falls the dew, 

And through the willows winds moan drear. 

The fire burns low, the weary rest. 

But in the gloom I sit alone, 
And miss the red lips once I pressed, 

xA.nd hands I once held in my own. 

Alone ? wait I alone ? Ah no. 

For many come at eventide, 
In visions dim when fire is low, 

And sit with me the hearth beside. 

And time creeps on, and shadows grow. 

And through the still hours old scenes loom, 

And faces dear in memory glow. 
And oft they fill the lonely room. 
1 08 



maitino 

But still I wait and linger last, 

Though old and gray more work to do, 
The clock to wind, some door make fast. 

As silent house I wander through. 

And when complete my evening task, 
I watch the embers at my feet, 

And solemn muse; then longing ask. 
Some morning fair shall we not meet? 

If so God wills I will not mourn. 
In Love Divine my faith still keep. 

And wait in hope, and struggle on. 
Till I with them lie down to sleep! 



109 



mh Cpa 




Walking from church one Sabbath day, 
Where he in youth his prayer-book read, 
And altars loved, now old and gray. 

His earthly days were growing lone. 
Yet the old church to him was dear; 

He thought of friends he there had known, 
Of new-made graves that clustered near. 

And he the spell of silence broke, 

As home they walked in thoughtful way, 

When to the youth he kindly spoke 
Of what his eyes had seen that day: 



©ID lEpes 

"The church seemed full to me, dear boy, 
And faces dear beamed on me there ; 

Somehow I feel the old-time joy, 

When I with them God's worship share. 

"There sat Squire Ward in solemn awe, 
In his accustomed front-square pew. 

And on side-aisle I plainly saw 

The widow Trull and Hannah New. 

"And how the beams and rafters rang 
When Su.jan Miles led on the air. 

And all the choir Saint Martins sang; 
Big viol played by Captain Ware." 

"Why, grandsire, where your eyes, I pray?' 
The comely youth replying said, 

"The people whom you named today 
For many years have all been dead!" 



"Dead? Dead? my boy, how can that be? 

You might not see them, but I did; 
And many more long dear to me, — 

I may have eyes to you forbid. 

"No youthful vision ever sees 

The things that fill an old man's eyes, 

When, lingering among old memories, 
Familiar scenes before him rise. 

"'Many a friend to him appears, 
Whose voice is still, whose lips are cold; 

Often he looks through mists of tears, 
For he sees with eyes dim and old!" 



ung in tlr^ Ntgl|t 



w 



HEN I a child walking in the night, 
And the way dark and lone, 

My father's hand, in timid fright. 
Would take within my own. 



Better than I the way he knew, 
Tender his heart and warm, 

He would lead me all dangers through. 
Nor evil could me harm. 

The dark I could not understand, 
Nor the stars spectral light, 

'Twas mystery all on either hand, — 
I longed for morning bright. 

113 



imall^tno in tbe IRiabt 

We mortals all (jod's children are, 

And often dark our way, 
With scarce a gleam of faintest star 

To give us hope of day. 

Some light from out life's scene has gone, 

And cold the misty air, 
Around our homes the night-winds moan, 

And shadows linger there. 

But though the night be dark and cold, 

And dim our feeble sight, 
If (jod's dear hand in trust we hold. 

Our way will beam with light. 

And help me, Lord, when night comes on. 

If path I fail to see, 
And guide my wandering steps when lone, 

That r may lean on Thee. 
114 



mauling in tbe IRiobt 

Then calm my walk in darkest night, 

No fears beset my way, 
For deepest gloom with Thee is light, 

And night itself is day! 




"5 



(|ur0tt0U0 



w 



HY am I mocked with hopes that seem 
To promise hfe beyond the tomb, 

If they are but an idle dream, 
And end at last in wreck and gloom ? 

What malice could such hopes bestow. 
If comes in sleep no morning glow ? 



What means this hunger of the mind. 
These earnest cravings of the heart; 

This thought in which I rapture find, 
A realm of light where none shall }:art?^ 

Ah, why should I these longings have. 
If all shall sink in common grave? 
ii6 



(Siuestions 

These hopes, who planted in my breast ? 

Who taught my soul to heaven aspire ? 
Who gave me wants that never rest, 

And kindled this intense desire ? 
The heart will hunger for its food, 

And is not God our Father good ? 

He every creature's wants supplies; 

The young lions roar and are fed ; 
From worm that crawls to bird that flies 

His hands for them a feast has spread ; 
Will He who animalcules feeds. 

Forget his child's immortal needs? 

For what are wings if not to soar ? 

Aspirations, if not to climb? 
x'\nd why have I these hopes in store. 

If all are weeds on shores of Time? 
What need of these deep hunger-cries, 

If soul itself but rots and dies? 
117 



Questions 

But are they not the pledge and sign 
To weary hearts of brighter goal, 

Written by God's own hand divine 
On deepest instincts of the soul ? 

Or glimmering lights o'er darkened sea, 
Showing, O God, dear haven and Thee! 




3ln ©rust to ®1|^0 



1 



N grief and loss I grope for light; 

Thy ways, (3 God, are dark to me; 
Alas! I cannot make it right, 

But leave it all in trust to Thee, 
In trust to Thee. 

The tangled maze defies my skill. 
Though light I seek on bended knee; 

x\nd long my search, am baffled still, 
I leave it all, O God, to Thee, 
In trust to Thee. 

My aching heart still pleads in vain. 
The lips of sage are dumb to me; 
Nor creeds nor schools can make it plain, 
I leave it all, O God, to Thee, 
In trust to Thee. 
119 



Ifn Unist to Ubee 

Forgive, O Lord, if I repine. 

When tempests rage and rough the sea, 
But let me put my hand in thine. 

And leave it all, O God, to Thee, 
In trust to Thee. 

The weary day soon brings the night, 
When there remaincth rest for me. 

Whate'er the hour 'twill all be right, 

I leave it all, O God, to Thee, 

In trust to Thee. 

'Tis sweet to trust Who cannot err; 

'Tis bliss to know thy love to me, 
And can my lot to Thee defer. 

And leave it all, O God, to Thee, 
In trust to Thee. 



IFn Urust to Xlbee 

A child I lean upon thy breast; 

Thy goodness can no ill decree; 
If tears or death, Thou knowest best, 

I leave it all, O God, to Thee, 
In trust to Thee. 




iFtu&tug ^0it 



H 



E who strives God to find 
Xced not seek Him far, 

Nor weary journey wind 
To glittering star; 



Nor search with lens or line 
Nature's deep abyss, 

Since the Maker divine 
Ever present is. 



It is with spirit eye 
Spirit forms we see, 

And wlio would God descry 
Must surely Godlike be. 



The loving heart holds key 
To our problem given; 

Having this, then shall we 
Find both God and heaven. 

'Tis love his word approves, 
Love with soul anrl mind; 

Since God is love, who loves 
Win his spirit find! 




123 



^41 



0!V. 



NOV 24 .1909 



m 



•a 



:?f • 



^P 



m 



